by E. C. Bell
“Don’t trust him, Mom.” My voice jumped in time with my pounding heart and I took another breath to calm myself. In and then out. “You can never trust him.”
“He’s here for our help, girl.” Mom’s voice hit that strong as steel and twice as cold tone she used when I was being particularly stupid about something. “We must help him.”
“I’m not helping him.” I was distantly proud to hear the fear leaching from my voice. “Do you know what he did to me? To my life?”
“That doesn’t matter now,” Mom said, and I was finally able to pull my gaze from Arnie. I stared at her as though she’d suddenly lost her mind.
“Are you frigging kidding me, Mom? He burned down my apartment. My apartment! I’m homeless because of him!”
“I understand,” Mom said. “But he’s past all that now. He needs our help.”
“Then you help him,” I snapped, turning to the door. “I’m outta here.”
My fingers hit the knob, and I nearly turned it. Nearly ran out of that place. I was going to leave my dying mother with the ghost of Arnie Stillwell and just get the hell out of there. But then I didn’t.
Arnie was my problem, not hers.
I sighed so deeply it felt like a sob and dropped my hand to my side. “I didn’t mean that,” I whispered.
Then I turned around and stared at Arnie. If I’d seen even the teeniest sign on that bastard’s face that he was lying, I would have grabbed my mother and made her walk out of that place with me. But I saw nothing but remorse and sadness. Oh, blood and brains, too. He’d definitely been beaten to death.
Blunt force trauma to the max, a quiet, dry voice in my head whispered. To the max.
For one nasty second, I wondered if James had actually done it, then gave myself a great big mental shake. James wouldn’t have killed the idiot. He would’ve called the cops and had him arrested. He never would have killed him.
Would he?
“How are we supposed to help him?” I asked my mother, hoping that if we did the deed fast, he’d be gone and I’d get my life back.
“You have to talk to him,” Mom said. “Prepare him. Help him move on. You know how this works! Why are you acting like such a child?”
Her voice had gone quietly angry, as though she really was talking to a recalcitrant child, and before I could stop it, I said, “I’m sorry. I’ll try.”
Then I really looked at my mother and at Laurel, who was clinging to Mom’s arm as though she couldn’t stand on her own. “What’s wrong with her?”
“It’s Roy,” Mom said, and sighed. “She’s afraid he’ll make her leave with him.”
“Roy?”
“Her husband. He was here,” Mom said. “He needs to be spoken to, too.” She sighed. “So much work to be done. I don’t know if I’ll get to them all.”
The tone of Mom’s voice frightened me as much as her words. I took her by the arm and led her to her chair at the kitchen table. Laurel scrabbled along beside her, tendrils of her aura still connecting her in a profound way to my mother.
“Let her go, Laurel,” I said. “She needs to sit down.”
“I—I can’t,” Laurel sobbed. “Roy will grab me and take me home. I don’t want to go home.”
“Leave her be,” Mom said. “She’s fine where she is. I just need a moment or two to collect my thoughts. That’s all.”
She didn’t look like she’d just need a moment or two. She looked like she was hurting and exhausted, and she leaned her head on her arms when she was finally seated.
“Tea?” I asked. I knew we were in the middle of a real crisis, but I couldn’t think of anything else to ask.
“That would be nice, dear.”
So I set to making tea for Mom as Laurel clung to her, looking like she was sucking her life force. Arnie still sobbed, and I glared at him.
“Stop that,” I said.
He snuffled a couple of times, hiccupped, and then sighed. “I’ll try,” he whispered, sounding absolutely pitiful.
“Whatever.” I pointedly turned from him, just to prove to him I wasn’t scared of him at all, and set to making a pot of tea for Mom.
She didn’t move her head from her arms until I put the steaming cup in front of her, and when she did, it looked like it weighed a tonne.
“So, where’s Roy?” I asked.
“He’s—” Mom glanced around and looked confused. “He was here,” she said, shaking her head. “He was here just a minute ago.”
“He disappeared,” Arnie said. “Just before you got here. Marie.”
I shuddered.
“Marie?” He said my name again, and I wished there was a way I could slap the crap out of him. “Aren’t you going to talk to me?”
“Just sit there and keep your mouth shut,” I snapped. “Until I look after my mother. Understand?”
“Yes,” he said. When I looked at him, he was looking down at his hands, so I couldn’t read his face.
I turned to my mother and Laurel.
“Laurel, you have to let her go,” I said. “Roy’s gone. You’ll be safe.”
Laurel looked around, her mouth pinched. “Do you think so?” she finally asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“I’m not talking to you,” she snapped.
“I’m sure Marie is right,” Mom said. “It might be better if you let me go, for a while.”
“If you say so,” Laurel said, and stepped away from Mom.
The last of her aura popped loose from my mother’s, and she sat in the chair on the opposite side of the table.
“I could use a cup of tea,” she said wistfully.
“Too bad,” I replied, but quieted down when I caught my mother’s eye.
“Feeling any better?” I asked her. She sipped her tea and sighed.
“A bit.” She set her cup down and pointed at Arnie. “Talk to him,” she said.
The very last thing in the world I wanted to do.
“Fine,” I said, and walked over to the couch. Ignored Arnie as he scooched over, presumably to give me room. “So tell me,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “Where did you go the night you died?”
“Marie!” Mom snapped, from her place at the table. “That doesn’t matter. You know it doesn’t matter.”
“I went to the bar,” Arnie said at the same time.
“Bar?” I asked, ignoring my mother like crazy and focusing on him. “What bar?”
“You know,” he said, and smiled slyly. “Our favourite bar.”
Oh yeah. The Blue Ox Inn. His favourite bar.
“That’s enough, Marie!” Mom cried.
I glanced at her and shrugged a half-assed sorry. Then I glared at Arnie.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“You mean why am I in McMurray?” he asked. “Because I live here.” His lips pursed. “Lived here.”
“No,” I said, trying to keep my impatience down to a dull roar. “Why are you here? At my mom’s house?”
“To see you,” he said. Then he heaved a great big sigh, like he was thinking about crying again. I glared him to quiet.
“Why would you want to see me?”
“Because we’re soulmates,” he said. “You know that.”
I felt sudden fear gear up in me. If I wasn’t careful, he’d attach to me. I tried to remember what Mom had taught me. Wings of steel popped into my head, and I clung to the thought desperately.
“You do realize you’re dead, don’t you?” I asked. “There is no more life for you. All you have to do is just pick where you want to go, and then go. Know what I mean?”
“No.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
I gritted my teeth. “You know you’re dead, right?”
“Of course I do.”
“And you know that everything you wanted to accomplish in your life is over now. Right?”
He said, “Right,” but didn’t sound sure. I decided t
o push this home. He needed to get it. Right now.
“You are done, Arnie. Done. You get that, don’t you?”
“But—but I’m still here,” he said. “You know. Here. With you.”
“You are not with me, Arnie.” I closed my eyes for a second, to keep the thought of wings in my head. “You haven’t been for a long time. And now that you’re dead, well, there is not a chance in hell of us being together.”
“Unless you die,” he whispered.
“What?” My mouth dried, and everything my mother ever taught me disappeared from my head. Jesus, he wasn’t threatening me, was he? “What did you say?”
“I said, if something happened to you, we could be together. Like Roy and Laurel are. Couldn’t we?”
“That’s enough of that foolishness!” Mom scrabbled up from her chair and stood in front of me, as though she was going to protect me from Arnie. “This is not a conversation you want to be having with my daughter,” she said. “Not under my roof. Do you understand me?”
She struggled to stay upright. I clutched her arm, but couldn’t tell if it was so I could support her, or so she could support me.
“I’m just trying to figure out the rules,” Arnie said, holding his hands out in a “sorry” gesture that I remembered all too well. “That’s all.”
“You don’t need to know anything past this,” Mom said, her voice like ice. “You’re dead. It is time for you to move on, but you need to make some decisions before that happens.”
Her eyes closed for a brief second, and she leaned against me, hard. But when her eyes opened, she looked alive and tough. Too tough for a dick like Arnie to take on. “We’ll help you with your decision-making process, but that’s all,” she said. “Your time with my daughter is over. Over. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” Arnie said. He looked down at his hands clutched tightly in his lap. They clenched and unclenched, like he was trying to get a real grip on something. To strangle something—or someone.
I guessed that someone would be me or my mother, and was very, very glad he wasn’t corporeal any longer.
“Now, it’s time for you to go,” Mom said, and pointed at the door. “I’ll put out the sign when you can return. Understand?”
He didn’t look up. “I don’t think I can make it here on my own,” he said. “Not without Roy.”
“Get here any way you can,” Mom said, nonchalantly. “Just look for the ‘Open’ sign before you come in. Understand?”
Arnie stared at her for a long moment. “Yes,” he finally said. “I understand.”
He walked to the front door. Stood for a moment, with his back to all of us.
“See you around,” he said. And then he disappeared.
“Well,” Laurel said. “He’s an unpleasant character, isn’t he?”
You said a mouthful, Laurel.
Arnie:
We Are Soulmates, Dammit!
WELL, THAT HADN’T gone quite the way I’d hoped. Both Marie and her mother got pretty riled up when I’d talked about Marie being with me forever.
As far as I was concerned, they both over-reacted. But wasn’t that the way it was with women? After all, I hadn’t said I was going to kill Marie. I was just making an observation, is all. But that error was going to make it a lot harder for me to get back inside the old lady’s house.
Too bad, too. I was pretty sure old lady Jenner had been on my side about Asshole Lavall—right up until the moment I’d talked about Marie.
Ah well, wasn’t the first time women had overreacted to me. It would just take a bit more to convince her that I was innocent. Safe. Old women could always be convinced.
I was lucky, I guess. I’d managed to cling to the trailer for some reason. I thought maybe it was Marie. But whatever the reason, I decided to stick around, if I could, and catch Marie when she came out that door. Then, I was going to do to her what I’d done to Roy. I was going to ride her wherever she went, because no matter what she thought, we were soulmates and we were going to be together.
Forever.
Marie:
I’ll Handle Him. Somehow.
“WHY DID YOU ask Arnie that question?” Mom asked.
We were standing in Mom’s rundown living room, still staring at the front door where Arnie had so recently disappeared.
“What question?” I knew what question she meant. I couldn’t understand why she didn’t understand. “You mean where he went before he died?”
“Yes.”
“I’m trying to keep James out of jail, Mom. You know the cops are looking at him hard for Arnie’s murder. He can’t afford to be linked to a murder rap, not when he’s trying to get his PI’s licence. So, now that I know Arnie went to the Blue Ox Inn, I’m going to go talk to his idiot friends and find out who wanted him dead.”
“More than James did?” Mom asked gently.
“Yes,” I said. “There has to be someone who wanted him dead more than James.”
“There’s you,” Mom said.
“Not helping, Mom.”
“Sorry.”
I glanced at her and almost laughed. “It’s not often you apologize to me.” Like never. “Kinda nice to hear.”
“When I need to, I apologize,” she said. “Luckily, it doesn’t happen often.”
Her small joke fell flat when she grabbed my hands, hard. “I want you to be careful with this one, girl. That business about him taking you with him—spirits don’t usually think like that.” She frowned and sucked her cheeks in. “Maybe it would be better if I handle him.”
I wished with all my might that I could say, “Thanks Mom, that would be wonderful,” and then leave him to her, but I knew I couldn’t.
“It’s all right, Mom,” I said instead, and pulled my fingers from hers. “That no attachment trick you taught me works. I think.” If I could remember it all, in the heat of battle, that is.
She frowned. “I don’t know if that will be enough. I don’t think you’re ready for someone like him. He’ll cause you trouble when you try to move him on. It’s going to be—stressful.”
I was going to say, “And you need the stress?” which would probably have been the preamble to a really good fight, but James saved me by opening my old bedroom door a crack and calling my name.
“Marie!” he said. “Ask your mom if I can come out!”
“Why does he think he needs your permission to come out of that room?” I asked.
Mom shrugged.
“Well, can he come out?”
“I suppose.” She looked around. “Just make certain Arnie’s really gone. I don’t think it would be good for either of them if they’re in the same room together.”
Oh.
I didn’t see Arnie’s dirty white light anywhere in the trailer, so I opened the door to my old room.
“Come on,” I said to James. “Mom says it’s okay.”
James shuffled out of the room. “What the heck’s going on?” he asked, looking from me to Mom and back to me. “Why couldn’t I be out here? Why were you yelling? What’s wrong?”
I glanced at Mom, kind of a “what should I tell him?” look, but all she did was shrug in an “up to you” way that made me want to scream.
I turned to James and smiled, knowing it looked fake but not able to do any better, under the circumstances. “There’s been a development,” I said. “Maybe you should sit down.”
James’s face hardened. “I don’t want to sit down,” he said. “Just tell me what’s going on.”
Behind me, Laurel snickered. Just what I needed. A frigging ghost laughing at me.
“That’s enough, Laurel,” Mom said. “Just watch TV.”
“Who— What—” James looked as confused as only James could, then ground his teeth and glared at me. “Tell me what’s going on, right now.”
“It’s Arnie,” I said. “He found me.”
James looked around frantically, as though he was going to be attacked. “Where is he?” he cried.
“Well, he’s not here right now,” I said. “But he was. Before.”
“When your mom ordered me out of the kitchen.”
“Yep.”
“Jesus.” He ran his hands through his hair distractedly. “I heard you yelling, but I just thought you were having a fight with your mother. Is he dangerous? Are you in danger?”
I was going to say, “No, he’s no problem at all,” but didn’t. I didn’t want to lie to James. Arnie had just threatened me. Maybe. Like Mom said, it was not often that a ghost even considered the possibility of taking someone else with him. I didn’t know exactly how he could do that, but his words had concerned Mom. And that concerned me.
Any ghost could do some damage, if he got angry or upset enough. And Arnie could be counted on to get angry or upset. Mom had been smart, ordering James out of the room. Having James right in Arnie’s face might have pushed him over the edge. Made him so angry that he might have actually been able to interact with the material world. I didn’t need that.
“I don’t know how dangerous he actually is,” I said. “But he needs to keep calm so he can move on.”
James looked at me, his eyes hard. “Are you in danger?” he asked again.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “At least, I hope not.”
“There’s a chance you might be in more danger than my daughter,” Mom said.
I could tell by the look on James’s face that he hadn’t thought about that possibility. “Why?”
“Because Arnie believes you killed him.”
Mom’s words hung in the air between the three of us like horrible poison-filled balloons. I for one didn’t want to say a word, for fear of breaking them open.
James turned to me. “He’s lying,” he said. “I didn’t kill him. You believe me, don’t you?”
“It doesn’t matter what she believes,” Mom said. Her voice sounded so cold, I shivered. “What matters is what Arnie believes.”
“It matters to me,” James said. He grabbed my hands. “You believe me, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do,” I said.
